


Leshy: Salvacho Karpov/Annabelle

by Chronicbane



Category: Slavic Mythology & Folklore
Genre: Gen, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology - Freeform, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 22:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11113842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chronicbane/pseuds/Chronicbane
Summary: A woman who goes by Annabelle is hired to hunt down a family jewel, her hunt leads her to a forest, but when she arrives the man responsible for the ring's disappearance has already been slaughtered. The sight of the body does not phase her, rather, where did that ruby red ring vanish off to? Her frustration spikes when a mischievous creature of the winds snatches the jewel right from her finger tips, will her tracking skills help her at all in this forest?





	1. Death and Decay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A woman who goes by Annabelle is hired to hunt down a family jewel, her hunt leads her to a forest, but when she arrives the man responsible for the ring's disappearance has already been slaughtered. The sight of the body does not phase her, rather, where did that ruby red ring vanish off to? Her frustration spikes when a mischievous creature of the winds snatches the jewel right from her finger tips, will her tracking skills help her at all in this forest?

Her chest heaves; lungs fidgeting under the burden of her drive, her throat burns desperate for a moment of pause. She doesn't stop, in fact, a growl of annoyance erupts from her throat expressing the rage that is fueling her initiative. Cursing at herself, her eyes remain trained on an exotic blue blood trail, her mind furious from disbelief, she swears she made a good shot, so why is it still moving? She had it! Right there just millimeters from the tips of her fingers, but it all happened too fast, she wasn't fast enough, and she damned herself for it.  
           A shout of both pain and frustration rips through her mouth, panting past her seemingly swelling tongue. She would not go back empty handed, not even if she had to die, it wouldn't matter even if she did show up empty handed there was a no tolerance on failure from the man who hired her. Just for the simple task of hunting down a thief and his possessions. The fact she had found the swindler mattered little now. The prized family crest etched in burning crimson jewels was in the hands of another, and it wasn't hers. Instead, a measly animal had gotten to it before her tired hands could have grazed the metallic material. She shuts her eyes. Cursing herself for letting her mind wander to that damned stone hammer, she had passed many ruins on her hunt for the thief, why did she have to look at that one in specifically, grudgingly admitting to herself that she had, in fact, began to fall victim to the release of the hunt.  
           The woman jerks forward, her foot catching across one of those breathing roots that shoot up from the ground. She’s fast; managing to keep her footing but her body; having been shaken awake, she feels the full force of just how tired her body was. Every muscle in her body screams at her, pleading for release, her vision blurring, and flushing in and out of focus. She’s forced to cease her pursuit, heeding her body's need for air.  
           The humid air throws her into a coughing fit, the moist environment in the middle of summer provided an entirely different atmosphere than that of the city she called home. Her shoulders slump forward, resting her hands on her knees as she tries to reclaim her composure. In the back of her mind, she knows she should be standing up straight, continuing to walk around after a hard run. But the tight cramping of her insides and the burning scattered all throughout her body alone can only provide a brief distraction from how her mind races regarding how fucked she is if she loses this trail.  
Her eyes dart around the wet, dead, leaf infested swamp floor, swallowing hard past the dry texture of her throat. Gathering herself a moment, she bends down to examine her trail further; she's never seen the blood of this color before. Because of that, she has no idea if she’s hit anything vital, was it a kill shot? Or should she prepare herself to trail this thing for a while?  
The thief she was hired to hunt down had been dead long before she caught up with the man, his body was already decomposing, it had not even been a week, the ecosystem around them had made the process speed up no doubt. But as she had examined the man further, searching for the stolen ring, she found no signs trauma or a struggle. She briefly wondered if she could have missed something, scoffing at herself for even bothering. She wouldn't have, she’s seen too many bodies to call herself inexperienced.  
           A loud snort echoes through the thick air, the woman's full attention now focused on finding the source, her sharp gaze lands on a solid body, shuffling behind the numerous amounts of trees. She doesn't get a clear look beside it being apparently dark and robust but wastes no time on thinking about it any further before she is rushing forward towards the motion. Her determination dependent on just one thing; that bloody red ring. A sudden cry of a man rips through her ears, her attention wavers slightly before she feels her frustration coiling in the strands of her muscles, she curses at the troubled stranger, she had no time for their problems.  
           It begins to register that, there wouldn't be anyone out in the middle of these marshlands would there? She only ended up here to follow up on a dead man's trail; her mind reels, what could that man have been here for? There was no sign of struggle, was he led here by someone...or something, just as she was? A chill danced up her spine, relaying all the tales and myths she's heard that thrive in the deserted forests. She tries to reassure herself, relying on a scientific explanation to save her from losing her composure.  
           Stepping forward, cautiously, carefully peering around every tree, her hand positioned in a way so she can quickly hold someone or something at gunpoint.  
A black blur comes up on her side. This time she's not fast enough; her body overwhelmed by power and speed, arm jerked to the side just as she lines up the handgun to the threat beside her. She fires a shot in hopes to have at least scared off the attacker, but her body is dashed against the saturated marsh floor below. She collects herself rather quickly and moves to confront the intruder.  
A loud rush of air is felt against her body, the skull of an enormous wetland stag presses her back into the ground, the eye sockets burning a bitter green. The bone cage that surrounds her digging into the mud, the bone just grazing her flesh, further pinning her down. She can't bite back the sharp yelp that escaped her throat at the sudden sight and force of this massive creature. Algae covered bone paired with algae covered antlers crowd her vision, she can't see anything but dark plant growth behind the dynamic, mysterious image above her.  
The stench of decaying life overwhelms her, she can't help but flinch when another heavy breath of air is forced onto her, a whistling noise is heard through the nasal canal. The sound of air being sucked back in is added afterward, repeating a couple of times as a result. Her nerves finally begin to unscrew themselves, registering that this new threat hasn't killed her yet, her eyes dance around the details of the beast, not realizing that the creature had lifted away from her, lifting the cage around her only slightly. Releasing a shaky breath, she only watches as the creature digs the nasal of its skull into the area beside her head, she can hear it inhale unrushed air, and the flow of air tickles her neck bringing a biting chill to her body.    
The creature rises once more, letting out a steady stream of air, its emerald orbs burning with growing intensity as its heavy build stills completely. The woman’s moment of panic has long subsided, and the fight or flight instinct clicks back in; her wrists twitch, anxious to move with the rest of her body, only now realizing that she has been pinned entirely. A low growl erupts from the beast’s chest, subduing the woman's fruitless attempts.  
“What is your name?” The words are sultry as they escaped from the inside of the aged skull. The woman doesn't register the noise as actual words, but the noise ended in the tone of a question from a man.  
“W-what?” She breathes; her mind captured by bewilderment.  
“Your name-” the words roll out with a terrifying hiss, warning her to choose her next words very carefully. She swallows hard, gathering herself and deciphering the question completely before continuing.  
“Annabelle.” She whispers, the creature leaned forward, craning its neck as it inhales the air around her. A quick release of air causes her to shudder away. “What about you? What the hell are you?” The creature responds with a short huff of air which, Annabelle assumes as a laugh.  
“Your instincts are quick, smart, and almost considered to be well in regards to endurance, I applaud you, Annabelle.” The creature replies, letting off as it rises to its own feet, easily towering over her ever as she quickly rises to her feet, it's no wonder she was thrown so hard and so far, “Humor me, dear, do allow me to indulge myself in a share of riddles?”  
“R-riddles?” She didn't mind, in fact, she enjoyed them on occasion, but, now was not the time for games, her gut tells her not to relax, but, her nerves are pleading with her, debating.  
“Allow me to be frank with you, Annabelle.” The towering beast stretching over her throws a rush of hot air over her skin, the glowing green orbs fluctuate, beating between low and high intensity like a pulse. “You will not get out of this forest without my say so, you will try all you might, but the outcome will remain the same. And I will only watch as my territory unravels you, limb by limb.” voice flat and challenging at her ears, “So, what will it be?”  
Annabelle had all the confidence in the world that she could make it back out of the dense swamplands alone, but she wasn’t blindly confident either. She would take the creatures warning with her, no matter what happened in the next few seconds, if she would see the opportunity to break off she would, but her mind chants to her explaining that this creature is completely unknown pausing her plans to get up and sprint away.  
Her eyes trail along the algae covered growth along the beast’s frame, it arches its neck displaying steady strands of vines, eyeing back at her with just one side of its skull. Most of all, though, it looked completely calm, and in control of the situation, its confidence was evident further extinguishing her plans to flee. Its long claws twitching at its side, in another, its claws drip with the inky color of blue, following the trail up, its arm has a terrible looking crater, ripping the plant material into ribbons of wounded matter. The loud hiss of air startles her from her examination, the creature bows its back, long quill-like thorns stretch with the motion giving the beast a more gruesome appearance.  
The metallic glint catches her eye from below, the handgun she had brought with her on her hunt, the gun she had wounded this creature with she assumed, and she wondered why it had not gotten even with her, killing her would have been justified. The creature’s gestures confirmed that it would be prepared to handle the seemingly weak human if she tried anything rash. She shuts her eyes realizing she can’t leave yet anyways without finding that damned ring, drawing in a heavy breath of air as the woman raises her head to the creature, she would be honest.  
           “I can’t leave yet,” Annabelle states a surprising firmness coats her words. The creature raises his head in a moment of curiosity. “If I go back now, it would be pointless, I’d be dead before I even had the chance to relocate myself, so you either kill me here now, or you locate the damned ring with me first.”  
           The beast remains silent a moment, before a quiet chuckle ripples through the air, a bloodied claw is raised, “This one,” the red jeweled metal twists and turns around the dirty strand of the vine, “right?” Annabelle wonders if she hears a condescending tone from the creature, knitting her brows together in disgust. There it was, though, the ring that would get her out of the shit show she had found herself in. If she could hand it over, she would be free to go, free to start something new, all that freedom just hanging loosely in the air in front of her, her hands tremble forward, anxious to claim the jewel.  
           The ring is pulled away from her sight, disappearing in the grasp of the beast before her. Annabelle blinks out of confusion on what she would do next. When she opens her eyes, she’s confronted with a tall stag, startling her as she moves to take a couple of steps back. Its towering frame closes the distance. Loud strains of air escape its nose, hotter than before, those same fiery green eyes dig into her confidence, threatening to shake her.  
           “Come now, you’re a smart woman,” the creature's voice reaches her ears, her eyes dart around for its source, but find it is only her and the mystical stag. “You’ll have your ring when you indulge me in my game. Join me.” He states, arching the stag’s spine displaying the sturdy build under it all. Annabelle hesitantly approaches closer, unsure of what is required of her, right now her mind can only comprehend that she is only inches away from her target. “Don’t be shy, climb up.” He adds, nudging her with those same vast bone shards from atop its now fur covered skull. She reaches up to the tall withers, grasping at the edge and giving a subtle jump to pull herself forward, but her strength fails her, she tries again, feeling frustrated at the lack of success.  
           On her final attempt, she feels those same bone structures push her further up onto the firm back of the great stag, “What flies without wings, dear, Annabelle?” The beast speaks, moving forward just as she manages to collect herself. She contemplates the words, realizing his game must have begun, she questioned how difficult the rest of them would be, this one being far too easy for her.  
           “Time,” Annabelle mutters out hesitantly. The creature seems to purr, leaving her to feel praised.  
           “And time we have little of, we would have been there all day.” The beast casually mocks. Except she has a hard time feeling offended, this whole situation was bizarre. The body under her; shifted as it climbs over tree roots and rotten logs, even with its thick fur it held a sort of chill which she didn’t expect. The hooves sounding thick but also seeming to belong there as they expertly navigate the mud and dense plant life from below. “The more you take, the more you leave behind. What am I, dear, Annabelle?” the creature asks lowly.  
           She has to stop and think about this one briefly, she parts her lips to speak, feeling only slightly unsure of herself. “um…steps…” She whispers hesitantly. The stag lifts its head knocking a portion of its antlers against her smaller frame.  
           “What was that? Speak louder, where did your confidence go?”  
           “Footsteps. I said, steps.” She responds stronger this time, eventually rewarded with that same purr from before.    
           “Each choice made is a step in the direction of any kind, it’s easy for humans to forget that.”  The creature shares, sounding genuine with its tone.  
           “W-what do I call you?” She asks in return.  
           “What belongs to you but others use it more than you do?”  
           “Well…” She begins, sounding unsure. Wondering if she would get an answer from him, a jolt rattles her from her thoughts as she feels the body below her dip down. The stag remains silent as it trudges through the thick mud spurring her to find the answer to his question. “It’s Your Name.”  
           The purr from before is felt from the beast’s ribcage. “You’re right again, dear, Annabelle. I’ve been called many things; monster, demon, the wrath of the swamplands for those who felt dramatic enough. But, you can call me, Salvacho, if you must put a name to everything. My true identity will be for another day, for now, I don’t have eyes, but once did I see, once I had thoughts, but now I’m white and empty.”  
           The realization of his words hits her, another riddle he asked for, what was he referring to? She reviews over his appearance, the way his name reels in her head distracts her imagination from forming any solid ideas. Her mind sparks at the sight of the algae riddled, a skull that held her down just moments earlier. “Skull…” she mutters, feeling proud of her answer, but also a hint of disappointment, she wished to see what the creature was after all.  
           A rumble from between her calves serves as her praise. The body raises its feet, throwing itself forward into a faster gait; Annabelle grabs onto the antlers in front of her, her legs clutching around the beast’s ribs. The familiar sound of air leaving its lungs passes by, she can only watch as the creature bounds effortlessly through the overgrown land, eventually developing a rhythm to follow, she begins to adjust to the new tempo.  
           “What is harder to catch the faster you run, dear, Annabelle?” The creature asks, his voice strained now, but not in a painful way, in fact, she assumes it is the giddy excitement being heard in the voice instead. Her mouth curls into a smile with it.  
           Letting out a subtle laugh, she finds that same excitement bubbling up inside her, her throat closing up, she fears it not. Instead, she happily gasps for air past her delighted laughter. “Your breath!” She jeers. The beast’s ears flick back at her words, before throwing itself into a harder stride, pushing through the dense growth at a faster speed. She finds herself dipping with his movements, anticipating the jumps and gentle diversions. For the first time in a long time, she was enjoying her time.  
           “Never fear that feeling.” It shares, sounding just as enthused.  
           Annabelle finds herself trusting the creature, having faith in its ability she no longer worries about the ‘what if’s’ after all, she’s completely out of control of the situation isn’t she? The woods echo with heavy hooves dancing against the mush swamp flooring, the sound of her laughter brings color to the dense forest. The stag appears all too content, strides becoming more erratic, laced with spurts of energy as he bucks, nothing too violent or aggressive, constrained perhaps, but both enjoyed every moment, all in good fun.  
           Her body is jostled forward slightly, as the beast collects himself, slowing his pace and releases caught air, both parties breathing heavy and loud while coming down from their boisterous behavior. When Annabelle raises her eyes, she’s met with a familiar sight.  
           The dead body she had spent weeks hunting down remained unmoved the swamp's ecosystem working quickly to devour his remains. The small clearing sparked her memory, recalling how close she was to getting out of the forest, stag resting at a standstill allowing her to climb down on her own accord. She does so hesitantly, her legs feeling like jelly as she adjusts to standing on her own two feet again. She spots the hammer from before, still resting against the tree, she turns back to look at the creature, finding its vanished.  
           She can’t help but feel her heart drop a moment, looking around frantically for where it could have gone when she spots the ring nestled into the bright green moss below, she reaches down to bring it into her possession, feeling slight disbelief. A gentle flapping is heard overhead grabs her attention.  
           An Owl, grand in size, rests itself upon a branch that stretches over the resting place of the great war hammer below. Those now familiar bright green eyes stare her down, its impressive talons shifting comfortably against the branch. It nestles its head into the seemingly soft plumage, its dark feathers gliding against one another effortlessly.  
           “What is it that no man ever did see, which never was, but always is to be?” The beast asks quietly, now calmer, maybe even laced with dour. Annabelle searches the creature for a million answers, wondering what would happen if she answered it now. Would that be the end? Would she be free to go? Could she come back? The owl only blinks, remaining still, and eerily quiet.  
           “Can I come visit you again?” She asks nervously, but her words bring no response. The bird does only what she assumes to be as waiting.  She bites her lip trying to ignore the aching in her chest, she had no idea why she had felt like such, she should be happy, she can finally finish her assignment and go her own way like she had been longing for, for so long. The Riddle had not been hard, she already knew the answer, but she feared the outcome of opening her mouth. Annabelle looks up to the perched beast, eyeing it down just as hard as it was eyeing her.  
           “Tomorrow.” she answers.  
The bird seems to relax at her response, settling into a more comfortable posture as its dark, soft plumage begins to stiffen, a stone like appearance consuming the beast. The luminescent green orbs vanish under the coat of stone, the creature molded into an unmoving object. Annabelle begins to ponder the reason behind his final riddle; an invitation? Something to live for? A small grin rides up her face as she turns away, the forest suddenly pretending that it never had a visitor in the first place, only she would know the real face behind the obscure swampland. And she planned to return after she took the creature's words with her and finished what she had to do in the world before.


	2. Fury and Conquest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something wakes the dormant Leshy from his concrete confines, the presence is enough to throw his forest into an angry force, and Annabelle wants to find out exactly what.

Months had gone by, passing slowly, but always a little too quick in their own way. The swamplands remained unaffected by the time, still humid, even in the colder months. The Guardian never moved from its perch, the mythical owl trapped in its concrete confines, elements evident on its stone shell eventually leading it to blend in with its surroundings as it watched over the resting battle hammer below. Time moved without it, the stone piece was but a structure in the path of life. Even under snowfall, however, Annabelle, never missed a beat, always showing up to their usual place, even if only to share few words about her day. The entrance to the murky forest was repurposed into her own sanctuary away from the world, she would haul a blanket or a pillow with her on the days she wished to talk to the guardian a bit longer than normal. She shared nothing that required haste, or immediate action, she would talk about her younger days, the moments that led up till now, even occasionally slipping into regrets that followed her around without her acknowledgment.  
    One day she eventually died down, that didn't stop her from visiting though. Of course,  while the guardian never spoke, or moved for that matter, she eventually came to terms with the possibility that the Guardian was never able to hear her after its concrete transformation. Their visits became more quiet and subdued, months stretching into the new year, the woman still showed. Nesting up in the tree tops with a book and a blanket or two, there was contentment in her heart where she might have been secretly longing for. The quiet, and thick air provided the woman with a sense of security, she had grown fond of the forest’s behavior, from a distance observing each sound and movement, giving her own names to creatures she didn't already know the names of. She found herself questioning how much longer she could keep coming here. However, the life that drove her to want to get away had subsided, she had reached a pleasant enough lifestyle for herself and wondered if she really needed to visit any further.  
    The constant internal conflict danced around inside her head whenever she would doubt, reliving the moments she shared with the Guardian months before, debating if she had been under the influence of some toxic humidity or desperation alone. Annabelle would glance over at the statue atop the grandiose tree she watched it perch upon, comparing the once burning green orbs to the stone craters she sees now. Her heart would sink, recalling the final words on their departure. Before she could completely give into her analytical mind, however, her eyes would trail down to the massive hammer below, and from there, her mind would drown in curiosity. Refueling her urge to continue her visits, somewhere, she still wanted to believe.  
    Her steady pace was sapped by the unpleasant feeling in her chest, a book and a blanket in hand, she could feel the forest around her groan with a feverish pain. She had returned to nothing. The forest was quiet, no creature rousing among the landscape as usual.  If there were any sounds, they were panicked and scrambling, the trees whipping violently against each other, branches would snap off and stab into the mud below as a result. Annabelle had seen storms in this area before, but none spurred this sort of response, her mind snapped to where she would find the guardian.  
    Her eyes met an empty limb, she had to do a double-take, twice. Her breath caught in her throat, unsure if it were out of fear, or excitement. She dropped everything and bolted. She wasn't sure where she was going, running the same direction she had followed over a year ago. The static air only fueling her on more, driving her into a frantic race. She stumbles over herself more than she does the actual debris on the bog floor. A large group of scurrying feet whizzes past her ear, massive bodies of fur leaping across her path, nearly colliding with her, bounding off in distress. A pained call of warning escapes the lungs of the stampeding group of red deer. Annabelle doesn't stop to admire the sight. Instead, she turns to the direction the animals fled from, kicking off with no plan what so ever.  
    As she runs she sees more wildlife fleeing, she can hardly hear anything past the blood rushing in her head and the choked wheezing from her lungs. Her body begins to scream at her, pleading with her to stop a moment for air. She smiles more at this, memories flooding back to a similar feeling without the desperation for the wrong reason. Before she can further contemplate how vast the swamplands are, she meets a clearing, at the center a great pool of storm-green water restlessly waits, scales dipping in and out of the cloudy water, thrashing and the loud snapping of jaws can be heard. She strides to a stop, hiding half her body behind a moss riddled tree as she tries to ease the needles in her lungs.  
    Crocodiles flail at the center, disrupting the green algae layer that coats the water, something she has never seen before, she begins to contemplate the reason behind it. Feeding? No, they would be more controlled into one space, adding in the state the forest, she deems it safe to say, something is most definitely wrong. Her eyes scan the chaos at the center, in the distance, she can spot smaller creatures fleeing elsewhere, the cause, still unknown. The hairs on her neck began to rise, her spine straightened with discomfort at the strange feeling, bringing a chill to her skin as she tried to keep as still as possible, resisting the urge to peer over her shoulder at whatever was watching her with such intensity.  
    In the corner of her eye she spots a muddy creature that extends past the height of her hip, it snorts once, twice, a paw at the ground with a faint of a snout to the mud below. When her head inches to her right enough, she recognizes the creature, a wild boar, massive in size, yellow teeth reaching out past its snout, mud of all shades plastered to its skin coating it in filth from the swamp environment. Lowering its head then snapping back up to eye her frame with a burning intensity, repeating this a couple more times, the woman anticipates this as a warning, she needs to leave quickly. She holds a caught breath feeling around the tree next to her as she backs away, keeping her eyes trained on the beast before her. The movement to its side quickly catches her attention, another boar, maybe a bit larger in size joins in on the stare down, another behind that one, and then another.  
    She contemplates climbing a tree, recognizing how impossible it would be with trees like these. She stills herself a moment, pondering why they choose to remain, while other creatures have fled. The pigs snort at one another, as if trying to decide what to do with such a fleshy being, through the communication, Annabelle hears the swamp pool die down, a silence infecting the air spurring her nerves into more unease. She peers around the tree at the pond still keeping herself at the ready. The thrashing currents from before are settled, the crocodiles seem to still.  
    A sudden jolt to her body rattles her system. Algae covered strands of decaying plant matter shootout in front of her gaze, startling her enough to jump back, only to be stopped cold by something damp at her back. The smell of death and musk invades her nose as she tries to protect her most vital organs with her limbs. A heavy breath shoots out over her in a hiss sending her body into a shuddering mess.  
    “What are you doing here?” A breathy voice asks, strained and commanding.  
    She forces a lid open, peeking at what hasn't harmed her yet with disbelief. She stares back into the seemingly empty skull with a raging green blazing from inside, that same bone cage from what felt like years ago still held that same sick looking appearance. Annabelle can't help but extend a hand towards the withered skull, gently caressing the edges with wide-eyed relief. The beast shrugs off the touch with a stream of hot air into the space between them spurring her to answer.  
    “What am I-? You were gone, you weren't where you usually are, so, I came to come find you, a chance to-”  
    “Quiet!” The Guardian hisses, peering over its broad shoulders at the clearing before them, “Leave. Now.” a commanding tone carefully rolling over the new silence.  
    “Obviously the forest is in chaos, at least tell me what is happening.” Annabelle breathes. The Guardian stares down at her resolve, the green flame mixing with an internal red, flickering wildly and pondering its next move.  
    It leans down, invading her personal space with a noticeable tension in its build. Before she can open her mouth to plead her case, the beast speaks, “There is a thorn embedded under the skin of my territory, somewhere, causing agony to this forest - my forest.” The Guardian all but yells, its voice wavering between barely contained rage and attempting to be somewhat civilized. The quills along its spine flutter at the mention of this threat, boars close in on the clearing, snouts to the ground huffing and snorting against the mud. The Guardian pulls away taking his place along the seemingly uninterested creatures. Before Annabelle can follow behind, the tree grabs her by the waist, pulling her close with a vine not that slow, but fast enough to catch her off guard. A breathing root from below shoots up next to her as she tries to struggle out of the trees grasp, inching its way up as it begins to encompass her in a tight constricted hold of wet plant material. Her mind starts to panic. The area around her being taken away little by little, gradually consuming the vague light outside, she reaches a hand out towards the beast now leaving her behind.  
    “Wait!” She calls, but not out of fear or anger. The creature stops, briefly, glancing her way for only a moment. “Please, I just have one more question,” her eyes cast down as the caught breath escapes her lungs. The Guardian approaches closer to hear her plea. A quick hand darts out between them, her touch finding the skull's eye socket and hooking on with more strength than the creature anticipated. Immediately the creature tries to pull away from this new unwanted pressure but later settles when Annabelle lets out a low hum. A burst of hot air whistles out its nose, as it remains still under her grasp. “Let me help…” her gentle voice asks, but her words were laced with something more than a question.  
    The beast jerks away, reclaiming its own space; a silence falls on them, spouts of disheveled energy weighing heavily on them both. Annabelle felt no fear at this moment. She had spent months with only her own thoughts to draw up what sort of individual she had encountered on that very eventful day. And the fact that this was all actually happening buried any tension she should be feeling. She was okay with that. She had so many questions that wanted to spill out past her lips, she wanted to be involved, she wanted to just, talk. She pleaded with her eyes past the barrier that kept her at a distance, eyeing every gruesome detail on the creature before her with a certain longing that she can't quite find a name for.  
    A final huff from the Guardian and it comes in closer. At first, she feels the surge of her anticipation, her eyes widening in excitement, then when the beast stops stock still, her anticipation is met with confusion, having to do a double take on reality at how still the creature remains. Upon closer inspection, a mist cascades out from the nasal cavity of the algae covered skull. Annabelle recognizes a scent in the air, a Cardinal flower, at least, that’s what she first thinks of. And when a toxic red mist flows freely out of the cavity of the withered skull, she almost flinches and tries to avoid breathing, her mind is more alert at the discovery.  
    “Stop resisting…” The beast whispers, brushing the ridge of its bone snout against the edge of her jaw, a claw dragging against the thin skin of her neck. Annabelle feels her body jump at the contact, she feels as if her body was not under its own control. Like her nerves and thoughts were speaking at different levels alongside different opinions. With her vision blurring, she feels the pull on her head, almost like a leash. Dragging her center of gravity further down as her legs buckle under her, the tree wrapped around her sides provides an almost comfortable crib. Without a mind to care, she remains confused, her sense of understanding becomes more distorted and splintered.  
    She wakes with a cold shudder, her body encased in a damp wrap. The scent of mud and clay overwhelms her, and a growing pain in the back of her skull shakes her to crack open her lids. The sight of the forest floor so close stirs her limbs to reclaim her own space. Her clothes are coated in dirt and soaked material, her hair sticks to the side of her face making her feel even more uncomfortable and dirty. Her nerves slowly begin to come back to their senses, carefully working to feel blood flow again.  
    Annabelle lifts herself from the forest floor with her joints popping under her weight. The dense forest lets in little light, but what her eyes do absorb, feels like almost too much. She feels like she's been awoken from a long sleep, leaving her tired and groggy.  
    As she observes the area around her, she realizes she has no recollection of any of the landscape. She anticipated the small clearing she had grown so familiar with over the year, but instead, she is greeted with an unusual sight. To her left, the dense forest is spread beyond into a collective darkness, but to her right, a colossal stone wall reflects the sun peering past the tree canopy from the swamp forest. Without shelter from the wind that is roaring over the land, the hairs on her neck stand at attention bringing her mind more unease. Most of all, however, there was no animal in sight, besides the sound of snapping limbs and bitter winds, there was no noise. Rising to her feet, her mind races to what needs to be done next,  
    “Salvacho…?” the words slip past her lips barely beyond a whisper. She can't help but ponder over and over, where she could be or how much time had passed. Behind her she hears a subtle change in sound, footsteps approaching closer with the motion of a creeping spider, one step after another, she connects her unease with the possibility that she could be under someone's close inspection. Her breath catches in her throat as she quickly spins around, the footsteps stop, she does not spot anything too out of the ordinary, but upon a closer look she picks out a body of light brown fur, frozen in place.  
    Through the space between the dead logs and sickly green growth, Annabelle can make out the feature of two round eyes, pupils blown wide and hazed over by eyelids. Two ears lay flush with the top of its head pointing forward right at her. She makes out the head of the creature, lower than its shoulders, and a long fur tail draped down low to the ground. A mountain lion.  
She’s being hunted.  
    The two creatures remain as still as stone, Annabelle can feel the tension boil to an unmanageable state, it's a look that makes her want to drop down into a fetal position. Her mind, on the other hand, seeks to draw a weapon to defend herself against such an impending pounce. She curses at herself for not having brought her sidearm along with her, instead, slowly, she scans the area, never once turning away from the massive predator locked in on her scent. Very slowly she backs away, and as she does so, the brown mass of fur and claws creeps in keeping the distance the same. The beast reaches the woodline, and her instincts scream at her to flee, something screams at her that this slow motion is going to blow up soon.  
    And it does.  
    The cougar lunges. Its front two clutches of sharp claws lifting off the ground. Annabelle’s eyes never leave the beast as she quickly shuffles to the side and back. She can hear the disturbance on the forest floor from the bone clenching tension under the creature now chasing her. She wasn't use to this, the feeling of being hunted is usually something she gives to others. She remains focused even still.  
    She breaks off the eye contact as she's diving behind trees, and carefully trying to avoid being pounced on. The forest floor seems to work against her, breathing roots almost appearing to move right in her path. She’s still fast enough to catch herself from falling, but the caught breath in her lungs makes it harder to keep up with her demands. The chase ends quite quickly when Annabelle feels a substantial force on her back, dashing her forward and into the ground below. A breathing root is jabbed into her hip on the way down, thankfully not impaling her. She doesn't leave any more time to ponder what could have been as she shoots up back to her feet, she locates the predator and eyes it with a new determination. It circles her, baring yellow teeth with its fur fluctuating above the fluid motions of its body below, steadily approaching closer.  
    Annabelle can't help but let out a frustrated growl, as she steadies herself against the tree behind her. Standing straight she balls her fists and treads forward. She’s not sure where this fire has come from, but she’s positive that she’s running on at least seventy-five percent adrenaline at this point. And to her that could be the best of medicines. Her nerves twitch about a burning desire to hit the creature with everything she has overwhelmed and blinded her. Her mind seems to already know her hunter is going to lunge at her any second, and all she knows she will do is attack back. The cougar scurries along the wet forest floor, its clawed paws moving faster than its previous steps before it takes off from an unexpected distance.  
    Her eyes never blink. A thread of vine shoots out from behind her at her attacker, and where there is one thread, there is another. As she shudders back from the new body of motion, what appears to be as a fist is formed at a speed of a switch throwing its arms down between the warm bodies creating a permanent imprint in the soft ground and busting off a few roots in the process. This seems to deflect the lion when it's scrambling off of the new wall before summoned before her and taking place a distance away with a loud hiss, ears pinned back and teeth out in a defense aura.  
    The large cat scampers away and out of sight, and before Annabelle can get a clearer look at what has just saved her a lot of trouble, the wall of dirty plant growth is lunged forward almost disappearing as it's collected into a new form. A flash of green fire appears behind the socket of a skull atop of this now familiar beast. Before she can stop to thank this ravenous creature, it's off sprinting at a lightning pace after the sizeable cougar.  
    Annabelle only pauses a moment in disbelief, a hand extended and jaw dropped open as she tries to register what had just happened. Her feet follow forward before she even realizes she intends to chase the two beasts. When she catches sight of them, Salvacho is sprinting ahead at a terrifying pace, maneuvering through trees and over logs, in his hasty pursuit. She can't keep up with the speed they’re traveling at long enough as the two creatures are quickly leaving her behind. It doesn't help that her legs feel like jello as her body begins to filter out the abundant adrenaline, she can't help but feel this situation has become a common theme for her in this forest. Much to her surprise, she doesn't have to run much longer as the familiar beast is lunging over top of the cougar. The two creatures are sent tumbling across the soggy forest floor, spouts of aggressive hisses and murderous growls laced in between the commotion. Mud flying and roots snapping under their force.  
    “Why have you come?” Salvacho quickly asks, as the two rise to their own feet, “You challenge my land, your very existence is an attack on my forest that you spew as only a mere threat!” The green fire roars from within the stag skull atop of the terrifying predator. The two beasts stand at each other both at the ready.  
    “I'm the same as you Leshy! We are a dying breed!” a new and unfamiliar voice screams back, the voice feminine in nature.  
    “You are a disease to be purged! Nothing more!” Salvacho snarls back, the quills from behind his head flex to the point they're practically standing up straight. Annabelle catches up to the two standing off to the side as she observes the situation, when she blinks, however, she is shocked, the sizeable cat that had haunted her before has vanished. A grizzly looking thing dressed in a series of carcasses from carnivores to herbivores practically cowers in a display she can only interpret as submissive but also defensive in its place. The size difference between the two beasts is astounding, the woman speaks catching Annabelle’s attention back to the situation at hand.  
    “I am in need of refuge!” The female beast bites back in a pleading tone.  
    “You trespass into my territory, that is reason enough to decimate you where you stand.”  
    “Hunters!” the woman sharply shouts with something more intense.  
    “… you've handled them this long you have no more excuses, -” Salvacho voices in a quieter tone but the intensity can still be felt.  
    “Something is killing us! My husband and child, they've been -”  
    “Silence!”  
    “...please, Leshy,” The smaller beast practically cries. Annabelle’s mind twitches at the name.  
    “What did I just say?” the quills along the larger beast can be seen tensing with the question as he closes the distance on the creature that lays pinned up against a dead log.  
    “...please, please listen to me, they're coming for you-” the smaller beast lifts her hand up in a desperate attempt to indirectly stop the fuming creature advancing towards her.  
    “They're coming for You. You, repulsive, creature have led those supposed hunters to my lands with your stench! If this threat is as great as you say then you have caused enough trouble. Ending you here… would do you an excellent service.”  
    “...I don't care what you do to me… but my lands! My system will die! I cannot stand by idly and doom my entire ecosystem! The work my husband and I have worked -”  
    “No!”  
    “Leshy!”  
    “You're asking too much!” Salvacho spits, his claws twitch anxiously.  
    “I have no other choice, we have been at war for decades, Leshy-”  
    “Ask another…” The green skull tilts down to the side, clearly not interested in aiding the being before him.  
    “There is no other…”  
    “The plains biome,-” he retorts.  
    “Too far, the two biomes can't intermingle they would endanger each other-” The smaller of the two speaks up, hope laced in her voice.  
    “What makes you think I'd adopt that same sacrifice?” Salvacho grumbles, just on the verge of a shout.  
    “...I know about the hammer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye! How's it going? Hope you liked it! Sorry if the formatting is all wonky, still have no idea how to fix that... but uh, I'm excited to get into the third chapter, I have it, somewhat...planned out but the general idea is there. I'd like to hear what you think, anything I can work on. Anyway, Thank you again for reading!  
> I'll catchy on the flipside!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So tell me, what did ya think~? Personally, I love writing fantasy, this segment was a lot of fun to write due to the fact I could do what ever I wanted with little need to back up everything with research. Some people say this isn't a fanfiction, some say it is, I have no idea myself, but either way I enjoyed writing it and have no regrets. I currently have another chapter ready to go might upload it after I finish this one, I hope everything turns out okay, I have no idea how to format in Archive Of Our Own. I would appreciate any CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, thank you for reading it means a lot.  
> I'll be seeing you around!


End file.
